Page 169 of Immune

It’s not old, because it’s too clean. It’s too deliberate. And that thought chills the blood in my veins.

“Stop,” I whisper.

Everyone does without question. Fletcher doesn’t immediately question why, which is terrible timing for growth.

Crouching carefully, making sure not to touch the canister, I inspect it closely. It’s small, black, and wrapped in tape, with a battery pack strapped to the side that includes a small, blinking red light.

Noise charge.

Basically a dinner bell with batteries.

My gaze flicks down the hallway, and I spy another sitting near the walkway doors. A third rests under a pile of broken picture frames, and it’s very clear they haven’t been thrown. They’ve been placed deliberately, and my stomach twists uncomfortably.

“They baited this route,” I whisper as quietly as I can.

Ewan’s voice loses all of its usual humor. “Timed?”

“Maybe,” I say, shrugging a shoulder. “Motion, remote, pressure. Honestly, pick your favorite flavor of fucked up.”

Fletcher’s voice is just as low as he asks, “Vector?”

“Who else could be this annoying and organized?” I mutter.

Kaito’s gaze moves over the hallway. “They wanted us inside.”

And that little sentence hits, and it packs a fucking punch when it lands. Not because I hadn’t thought of it, because I did. But it’s more than he says it out loud and the thought grows claws.

Above us, something screams.

Not a Zed.

Too fast.

Runner.

The sound splits through the building from somewhere on the upper floors, followed by a heavy crash of furniture and the growing groans of dead things that have been disturbed from their depressing, miserable little naps.

The canister nearest to the walkway wakes up, and a thin electronic whine steadily grows from it.

Ewan swears. “That’s not fucking ideal.”

“No shit.”

The whine suddenly snaps into a screeching alarm, and every single Zed in the building answers. The hallway erupts. Doors start to bang and from behind us, the service access door slams open.

Then I hear human voices shout.

“Contact! Second floor!”

Fletcher fires once down the hallway. “Move!”

I don’t argue with him this time. We all run, and the pilot almost drops. Xeon catches him under one arm, and Fletcher takes the other side, hauling him forward. Kaito turns and throws a blade toward the service door, and someone curses colorfully. Ewan kicks the nearest noise canister under an open apartment door, then slams the door shut as the alarm continues screaming inside like a trapped demon with a battery pack.

“Bought us thirty seconds,” he shouts.

“Fucking optimist,” I shout back, just as an apartment door to my left explodes open.

A Zed stumbles out, followed by another, then a third crawls out with broken ankles. I slash through the first one’s throat to knock it off balance, then drive my knife through its temple. The second Zed lunges, and Fletcher shoots it past my shoulder, close enough that heat brushes my ear.